At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Wednesday, August 06, 2014

BLACK BEAN SAUCE SPARE RIBS RICE -- 豆豉排骨飯 DAU SI PAAI GWAT FAAN

One of my favourite dimsum restaurants is the place with all the coughing old people. They're famous for their black bean sparerib rice. After the crowds die down, the elderly ladies and gentlemen from the nearby apartment buildings wander in, have themselves lunch, and cough. Spareribs can be fatty, you see, and the grease makes their throat feel phlegmy.

I'm of two minds about the coughing old people.

I like the fact that they're enjoying life immensely, what with good snackipoos to eat and all that. Old people need to have fun too.
On the other hand (other lung?), they're horking up hairballs.



Dimsum is meant to be shared. I am not that social. Of course, judging by my meals over the past several years, I am not social at all, not in the slightest.
It's not that I wouldn't want to eat with someone else, it's just that the group thing has no appeal whatsoever anymore -- not since the East Bay folks got all dickish, which more or less coincided with the end of my last relationship with a member of the other gender -- and I don't really like people that much.

The place with all the coughing old people would be a great place to have lunch with someone sweet. The problem is that if that person were white, they'd probably be too fastidious and have weird food hang-ups, and consequently object to damned well everything that came out of the kitchen, and if they were Asian American they might worry about what the coughing old people would think, good heavens, there's my auntie!
Assuming that they were Chinese American, of course.
Other Asian Americans have white food hang-ups.
Or very middle-class food ignorance.

I don't think I've ever seen more than one other white person there at any given time. White people talk a lot about food, especially dimsum and other Chinese fun stuff, but they don't really get too close. That's why they go to teahouses with nice decorous wait-staff, table-cloths, and a white-speaking clientele.

[For white people who actually do want to get closer to food, here's a list of all the items you might be curious about: DIM SUM: KINDS, NAMES, PRONUNCIAT​ION, DESCRIPTIO​N.]


Yeah, some white people do eat. But they tend to get all spiritual and sh*t about it when they eat outside of the box.
It's very irritating, that.


我好鍾意食豆豉排骨!

Now, having read this far, you are probably thinking: "why is he whining, the solution is simple! All he needs is some Chinese American chick to eat with! Easy! The city is filled!"

Yes, the city IS filled. But what on earth would we talk about?
What could we possibly have in common?

It's not just a food thing, but a book thing.

The issue is one of language and interests.

[There are a number of places where I no longer go in Chinatown because the women are just too nice.
With so little common ground, that's a disaster in the making in any direction.]


By the way, did I ever mention that 'cute', 'girlishness', and 'feminity' make me barf? It is important to grasp that. Real people have opinions, talk back, pursue their interests avidly, and don't pout.
Ick poo.

The vast majority of Chinese American women have NEVER read Wind In The Willows. Or Beatrix Potter's stories.
Most non-Chinese American women haven't either, unfortunately.
There's a dreadful lack of imagination all across the board.

I am far too stubborn to learn about handbags, shoes, and fabulous shopping in ANY language.


嘩,有手袋,有鞋,有美妙購物添; 偉大嘅品牌喺低價格低!


Chit-chat involving brand names (or sports terminology) kills brain cells.

I'm not interested in dating a white woman. I am not interested in dating a Chinese American woman. Actually, I'm not really interested in dating at all. Not if it means conversational death.
I am quite imperfectly happy eating dimsum on my own surrounded by coughing old people.

Might even simply have the black bean sauce spare ribs and rice again sometime soon. Then fill up a pipe and go wander underneath the gingko trees afterwards. Rich fatty meat, an entire pot of tea to myself, and a Virginia and Perique mixture to smoke.

I am not really very social.













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